Psychobabble
by Small Chemist
Summary: Edward can't stop shaking. There's too many images swirling around him, and not even Mustang can stop them. EdWinry. Written to Frou Frou's "Psychobabble".


_If you think that it's so damn easy  
Then what do you need me for?  
Just look at the state of you  
Babe, snap out of it  
You're not listening to this_

**Psychobabble**

"You're not making any sense!" Shouted Mustang as he shook the blond boy by the shoulders. Edward breathed in a shaky gasp, trying desperately to focus his eyes onto Roy's dark gaze. He dully felt Mustang release him and heard a thump as he fell onto Mustang's sofa behind him. He began wringing his hands nervously, hearing the tick of a clock from somewhere within the office.

"She's…she's…" Edward began again, trying not to choke. The ticking was becoming louder, pressing into the air, deep and low repeating over and over. Edward clenched his eyes shut and learned forward in the chair. He only realized he was shaking when Mustang began holding him again, preventing the jittery movement.

"What is it?" a low voice asked, unnaturally calm. The blue clad figure was on his knees staring into Edwards shining golden eyes. Edward looked to the right, shrugging away from Mustang's touch, ashamed he was telling _this man_ of all people, having a breakdown in front of _this man_.

The embarrassment only made his eyes more teary, face redder, shaking more violent. Eyes closed again. He found telling the darkness much easier than his superiors face. "I let it happen!" He shouted into the black. He could no longer hold the tears back, and decidedly grit his teeth as warm liquid streamed downward. Mustang's gloves became thoroughly stained as the older man furiously whipped away the drops.

"Snap out of it, Hagane no." His superior commanded and Edward immediately held his breath. His head was hung low, bangs shadowing his eyes. Mustang tried another tactic, hoping to make the boy become reasonable. "Edward…"

"She did this to me," Edward said softly. After a moment or two the boy laughed hollowly, running his gloved hands through his hair, mussing his braid as he gripped at the blond locks. "I don't know why." He said dryly. He was haunted by the image: A sightless pale girl hanging from a rope.

And Mustang had no idea.

He suddenly turned to the startled Colonel and began shaking him intensely. "WHY DID SHE DO THIS?" Something clicked in Edward's head as his surroundings disappeared and he saw only his childhood friend in the room.

There was blood dribbling down her chin.

Edward swallowed back the feeling of nausea. His eyes rolled upwards to stare into the spinning ceiling fan. The persistent tick of a nearby clock recalled Edward's nightmare piece-by-piece, step-by-step.

He had entered the Rockbell home alone, hoping to pay Winry a special surprise visit, and inform her on Al's recovery progress. The first thing he noticed that seemed awkward was the fact there were no lights on. It was like entering a cave, Edward thought while dropping his suitcase near the front door, and groping around for the light switch.

The house seemed oddly calm, even after Edward had turned on the lights. There had always been activity stirring from the many customers rumbling about and repairs being made. Edward had called Winry's name several times to no avail. Edward had naturally assumed Pinako and Winry had gone out for the day. He decided to tread into the living room and wait patiently for their return. What he hadn't expected to see was the sight of his childhood friend, dangling blue from the ceiling fan, dripping blood onto the carpet.

He had run the whole way back to Central after that.

Edward screamed, thrashing about and clawing wildly at his face. "Get it off, GET IT OFF!" And there was a man shaking him, more yelling and suddenly he was on the floor, pinned against the couch staring straight into Mustang's wide eyes.

"There is nothing on you." Edward heard somewhere say in the back of his mind, while watching the Colonel's moving lips. Obviously Mustang just didn't understand. There was something on him! Something poisoning him. He had to get rid of all the blood. It was all over him. Edward was suddenly very sick. He violently ripped his coat off, rubbing his hands across his arms, furiously whipping away the invisible sticky substance. He swore he heard himself yelling at Mustang to help, get some towels, do something! And found Mustang's lack of cooperation to be very unhelpful. Edward only stopped attempting to shred his sleeves when Mustang had shaken him once again out of his delusion.

"Hush." The man said softly. Mustang was frightened by now. It was impossible to make sense of Edward's seemingly fragmented statements. What was the boy trying to say?

"She's dead." Rasped Edward, only solving part of Mustang's confusion. The wind and rain outdoors was banging harshly on the windows. Mustang slowly released Edward and made to close the curtains but was held back by Edwards clenched fists on his jacket.

"Well?" shouted the boy hysterically after turning around to face the colonel. "She's dead. She's fucking dead, bastard." Mustang's eyes widened at Edwards sudden outburst. Edward grinned again, the expression so wrong when fitted with those intensely sad eyes. Edward knew the scarred man did it, and here he was right in front of him. Edward clumsily pulled back a fist to slam into Mustang's skull. Mustang, however, caught the flying appendage with ease lowering the metal arm into the sofa.

"Stop it, Edward. Stop doing this to yourself." Mustang feigned composure incredibly well, as Edward knew even in this hysterical state. Edward finally stopped his shaking, staring bleakly at the man in front of him. Now…where was he again? Wasn't he just at the Rockbells?

"When did you get here?" He asked Mustang blatantly. Realization dawned on him like falling into ice. He began screamed wildly, desperately. Someone had to help her, she was going to die. "Did you see her? Why would she do this? Why? She's not dead. She wouldn't ever do this to herself. She was waiting for me! She always is waiting for me. She can't be dead! She still needs to make my auto-mail! …What the hell is going on?" Someone was mocking him again, and he was going to tell them to shut up, for the very last time.

"YOU BASTARD COLONEL, I AM NOT SO SHORT I NEED HER AUTO-MAIL LEG TO HOLD ME UP ABOVE THE GRASS." Edward immediately began crying hysterically into his white gloves. He brought his legs inward in an attempt to make himself smaller and perhaps unnoticed. "I'm not…I'm not." He whispered frantically between sobs. His hands dug into his skull, ripping away at a lock of blonde hairs.

Roy Mustang stood up solemnly, walked toward his desk and picked up the phone, never letting the smaller Elric leave his vision. After a few dialed numbers he cleared his throat nervously, whipping the sweat away from his forehead with the back of a gloved hand.

"Hello? Is this the Psychiatric Ward? Could you please pick up a potential patient? Yes, he's with me right now. Edward Elric. …Yes. Central City—Colonel Roy Mustang's office."

And somewhere in the Colonel's office Edward could be heard screaming through his tears his love for a dead girl.

_Now, I've had it up to here  
Don't ever try that again  
Why are you so quiet so suddenly?  
Go on, have it  
You're just dying to try me_


End file.
